


what motivates me (hatred isn't love)

by Gingersnaps (K___P)



Series: Not-so-traitor traitor Wilbur fics [6]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, This Is For You, Traitor Wilbur Soot, but please take this before I give up entirely, but y'all deserve something, even tho this series is . months old, god . I am so tired, hope y'all like it mwah, please girl this is so irrelevant now, to the people who regularly comment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K___P/pseuds/Gingersnaps
Summary: schlatt's life, neatly interwoven with wilbur's, and how he sees everything.OR: schlatt's side of the story because it has been far too long and I WILL make you read about nuanced characters if it kills me
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, a constant reminder, they r only rly the ones that appear
Series: Not-so-traitor traitor Wilbur fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971445
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	what motivates me (hatred isn't love)

**Author's Note:**

> hey I'm uh . not dead .? sorry 4 disappearing this series has been difficult to continue, what w being massively au nd stuff hsbdhdhs
> 
> anyway this is dedicated 2 the person who reminded me this series existed and then accidentally trapped me in the world of "I said I would maybe write a fic in this series so now I have to or else I seem rude and standoffish" I appreciate u and hope u have a good day 
> 
> I have physically fucked up my right pinkie from the way I hold this shit ass phone when I write. Y'all better like this or I'm making you pay for my non-existant hospital bills when I get arthritis in highschool
> 
> ok so . I've had ideas 4 this since I mentioned part ""2"" months ago . I just haven't been able to write it out so that's what the ending is lol help I wrote 3.3k in like one sitting

they first meet as kids. schlatt is a runt of a hybrid, horns growing in later and smaller than his parents', and is all the more fierce for it. even before he knew what a scam was, he could smooth-talk any swindler out of their most precious coin.

in an almost direct contrast, wilbur is the town's golden boy. his father, phil, is renowned for his wings and his survival prowess, and cherishing his boys above all else. he, along with his brothers, have all they could ever want.

so why, schlatt grumbles to himself, is wilbur _here_? 

here, specifically, is a little outside the rows of pubs down at the harbour. it's the perfect place for chatting some drunkard up and out of their money, with the added bonus of being far out of sight of most of the town. it is, for all intents and purposes, perfect for stowaways.

so why is golden boy here? why is golden b- _is he walking towards schlatt? what the fuck?_

but, god, he'll be damned if he lets his surprise and momentary confusion show on his face. instead, he relaxes further into the wall, plastering an easy grin on his features. 

(in his fingers he flips a coin - the first he ever got, in fact. he thinks of printing something on its golden surface at some point, in the near future. hell, maybe he'll commission a whole currency's worth, scam a couple people into investing.)

footsteps, lighter and far more even than the staggering gaits of those around them, settle in front of him. he lazily tugs his eyes from the already-set sun to narrowed brown eyes and raised eyebrows. a self-satisfied smirk sets his hackles bristling.

oh, one thing he forgot to mention. he and wilbur used to fucking hate each other. schlatt, for wilbur having everything he'd ever wanted - a warm hand at his shoulder, full and regular meals, admiration and care of the adults around them. wilbur, for schlatt's many freedoms, unrestrained by expectations loaded heavy on his shoulders.

"my, my, schlatt, whatever could you be doing out here at this time?" wilbur's voice, even and mocking, has him clenching the fist in his pocket. "doing something illegal, hm?"

the urge to punch him, right in his stupid fucking teeth, almost overwhelms him. schlatt knows he had a mean right hook, and could definitely ruin that smile. but he doesn't, because being on the receiving end of techno's wrath is never pretty.

even though, he thinks to himself, it would be fucking worth it.

instead, he shrugs, yawning distractedly. "eh, you know, the usual. makin' bank, seein' if the locals are into giving to ... charity." from the corner of his eye, he catches wilbur tilting his head in intrigue, and a lightbulb goes off.

he stretches forward, resting an arm on wilbur's shoulder and leaning heavily onto it. "and, hey, i'm always in the market for a partner in crime, 'f y'know what i'm sayin'." the other boy's face scrunches up, pushing him away, but there's much less genuine animosity there than thirty seconds before.

"god, i though tech's accent was bad. d'you guys all come from some weird fucked-up factory or something?" he huffs, even as a grin spreads, unbidden, across his face.

"woah, woah, that's uncalled for, asshole," schlatt hears himself say, and they're matching grins, now, excited and apprehensive and just a little feral. he holds out a hand.

"so, whaddaya say, lover boy? wanna go scam some fuckers? _live_ a little?"

wilbur takes his outstretched hand, and for a moment they bask in the moment, waves crashing in the background as they make a pact that will withstand lifetimes.

"why, schlatt, i thought you'd never ask."

\---

later, wilbur complains about the telling-off he'd gotten from phil, mimicking the man's accent and tone almost perfectly. he'd strutted from one end of their run-down hideout (an abandoned warehouse, likely an old factory, completely cleared of junk), balance shifted as though offset by wings.

"-and it was all, ' _oh noo, wilbur, what will the neighbours think? you can't be running off at all hours of the night, not with schlatt-_ " he spits the name out, even while he throws schlatt an unwrapped and definitely stolen protein bar, _"'it's not safe at the docks!'_ god, as if he hasn't been fucking off to wherever for the past, like, five years."

snarling, he spins on his heel, facing schlatt with unmatched ferocity. "can you fuckin' believe him? he goes off about you being a bad influence, when he's barely around to show me anything! he's so hypocritical it hurts, man, and don't even get me started on techno-"

he does, in fact, get started on techno. schlatt was half-tuned out by the time he started repeating points ("he's just some pink-haired bastard with fancy sword tricks!"), flipping a familiar coin in his fingers. he and wilbur had been fast friends for close to four years by now, both pushing fifteen.

or at least, wilbur said he was pushing fifteen. he wasn't actually sure, 'cause the only time he'd mentioned his birthday had been during a scam, right after schlatt had mumbled something about hating virgos. of course, just to be contrary, he had told everyone he was a virgo, content to watch schlatt squirm.

god, of all people, why'd he have to get stuck with this brat? why couldn't he have had, like, the weird blue-haired kid, who'd made jokes about pants? at least, with him, he wouldn't have been on the wrong end of techno's glares every time they passed in the streets.

but then, wilbur flashes him a tired grin, and he sighs, holding out his arms. the taller all but collapses onto him, huffing out a tired sigh and burying his face into schlatt's shoulder.

"i'm just ... so, so fuckin' tired of being stuck in phil's-" (and it was always phil, never dad, not like how tommy bragged about his _cool dad, better than the rest_ , or how techno talked about his _father's fighting prowess_. no, just phil) "-expectations from forever ago."

he makes a movement, like he's about to push himself up, but gives up halfway through, slumping back down. schlatt runs his fingers through curly hair, tugging gently at knots. this is one of the rare moments he'll actually accept the affection, away from the prying eyes of the townspeople.

away from the townspeople, always watching for one slipup, one reason to ostracise him further. a sign of weakness and he's gone, a soft point to poke at and he's away. schlatt may have the admiration of their peers, easily rising in popularity to be beside wilbur, but he has never had the care of adults.

(they take one look at the wrongly-twisted horns and golden slit eyes and decide he is a bad omen. he's not even a rare hybrid, for fuck's sake, he just got the eyes! they never see him play dead when tommy accidentally spooks him, they never see him chew on woodchips - they only see the callous figure they want to.)

\---

at sixteen, wilbur bursts into his room. he is shaking, somewhere between anger and indignation and fear, and schlatt readily lifts the sheets. he slips in beside him, and schlatt scoots back to let the other have his space. for a few minutes, they lie in silence; schlatt, trying to sleep, and wilbur, trying to get his trembling under control.

eventually, he gives up, pushing himself back up on the bed. schlatt simply tugs the blankets closer around himself, sensitive eyes twitching in the newly-illuminated room. god, what a prick.

"hey, virgo, 'm tryna fuckin' sleep. what's the big idea, ey-?"

"schlatt i want to run away."

for a moment, there's a silence, in which schlatt tries to blink sleep from his eyes and register what the fuck he just heard. in the lamplight, wilbur is practically glowing, eyes fierce and hair golden.

"there's nothing for me here, and i wanna explore the world. there's gotta be something for us to do, yeah?"

slowly, schlatt nods, completely at a loss for words for the first time in his life. wilbur, at least, seems content with his answer, and leaves the room briefly. when he returns, he's holding two backpacks - one empty, the other relatively full.

"what's this, we goin' to school now? wanna run away to some fancy pants boarding school or somethin', wil?" he forces out, stumbling slightly as he grabs at his necessities - his first coin, a suit and clip-on tie, toiletries and snacks he _knows_ wil will have forgotten.

all the while, wilbur sits patiently, clutching the steadily-filling bags with an odd faraway look. he barely reacts when schlatt tosses a jumper at him - mustard yellow, one he left over at his house after an argument with phil - and then a dark red beanie, simply tugging them over his haggard curls.

and that really is the word to describe him now, huh? his appearance is haggard down to the bone. exhaustion is clear in the sag of his shoulders, bags under his eyes purpling even as he takes a sip from an energy drink. his hair is in disarray, windblown and messy, as if he'd been running his hand through it.

after shoving his horns through a matching sky-blue jumper, and tossing a couple more waterbottles and woodchips into his bag, schlatt deems himself good to go. he didn't have much to begin with, simply absorbing stuff from whenever wilbur stayed over and inevitably forgot something.

(they both knew he didn't "forget", as he put it; he had a terrifyingly sharp mind, and feared losing that more than anything. instead, they saw it as a game - so long as something of wilbur's remained at schlatt's, they were bonded. after all, it was a promise of a return that they both clung on to.)

\---

they ended up together on an island in the sky. it was fucking terrible, all things considered, even as schlatt wondered if he could start some sort of cult.

from the hounded expression in wilbur's eyes, terrified out of his mind, he figured it was a no-go. asshole he may be, but he wasn't an _asshole_.

they spent countless days together up there, laughter coming easier and easier as their lungs and minds adapted, until one day wilbur decided they should have a heart to heart. they lay down on a relatively flat area of ground, staring up at and slightly to the left of the ominous sun, ever-present and ever-visible.

wilbur told him about how, when he'd been younger, he would sometimes be whisked away to an island miles and miles above the highest peak of the world. an island where he would be stuck in a perpetual waiting game with cruel gods, life a game to them.

wilbur told him about his companions, rabbits and sheep who barely lasted, fish who meant the world to him. he told him about the crushing loneliness, the dependence he gained on the sky gods, whose only interaction with him were the gifts they bestowed.

and schlatt sat, and he listened, because he was a good friend and that was what good friends did. he, in turn, told wilbur of all the scams he'd taken part in, nonsensical and wild though they were.

he told him of tax payers and cookies, of growing and shrinking and shifting forms within the bat of an eye. he told him of a world where he'd been in charge, had been forced to play a role he hadn't even realised.

schlatt told wilbur of the apples he gave out, as both a gift and a mark, a sign and a test. he told wilbur about the echoing, about the ringing that persisted in his own mind long after fading from existence.

and he and wilbur sat, and laughed, and watched the eternal sun continue its eternal pattern, and figured life may not be half bad with such company.

(and later, wilbur hesitantly tells him of one possible way to escape - to jump, and pray there is water below.

schlatt can tell there is more to this story, this idea, than he is being told, but he doesn't push. instead, he offers to do it in wilbur's own time, and does not bring it up again.

and when they finally take the plunge, hoping against hope that they will not be thrown back onto the island and punished once more, he grips his friend's - his brother's - hand, refusing to let go.)

\---

they return to the docks alive - shaken, but _alive_. they're at the first place they ever truly talked, eyes gleaming with the exact same almost-feral light, the adrenaline rush from having survived stomping all other feelings to the ground.

the first place they stop off at is the shifty shop, halfway between the docks and the town proper. in there they discover that they have been gone for well over a year, they have barely grown (or aged, for that matter) in that time, and their favourite crisps were discontinued.

grumbling, carrying as many snacks as they can and shoving some more up their jumpers, they begin the trek to the warehouse. it's not far, per se, but schlatt preferred to be outside of the public eye, and wilbur liked the view, so it was a hassle to get to, but at least nobody else used it.

or, at least, that's what they thought. when they come in, tommy - the most clingy of all wilbur's brothers - is sat there. the mattress, piles of food containers, and fellow child is enough to convince them that, yeah, the bastards have been living in their house for a while.

tommy looks shocked to see them, seemingly torn between wilbur, his brother, and schlatt, his icon. when schlatt steps out of the way, he makes his mind up, and launches himself onto his brother.

very studiously ignoring the muffled sobs coming from that direction, schlatt sets about reordering his stuff in the way he likes it. the brown-haired kid follows suit, tidying up any rubbish thrown haphazardly on the floor.

it's a waste of time and energy. they are gone the next morning, whisked away to a gorgeous section of land that floods in the nighttime and rains in the daytime.

\---

if you were to ask anyone else, they would say that the banishment of wilbur and tommy was completely out of left field. if you were to ask schlatt or wilbur, they would've told you it was a very familiar trend.

it wasn't one they willingly chose, not a destiny either of them liked enough to consciously fulfil. but with the sky gods' whispers in their ears, and the everlasting game they played, it was inevitable.

(schlatt still has something of wilbur's, after all - the day he got banished, as his body writhed and faded, wilbur pressed a button into his hand. later, he finds out that wilbur's revolutionary coat was missing a button - gold, small, and exactly the same shape as the one in his hands.)

circumstances develop wildly out of his control, even as he tries his best to reign them in. one day he's announcing his victory, the next he's accepting his oldest friend's desperate deal, no lies or trickery to be found.

it's unnerving, and he hopes that, with a bit of a push in the right direction, they can become what they once where.

\---

in a familiar song and dance, he packs their bags for them, making sure to include supplies for a portal. he himself has no plans to separate, but, well - wilbur assured him he hadn't meant to destroy their house. he himself hadn't meant to trap himself in lava, or to push wilbur to his death.

they're just a precaution. for all their practice, they might as well just become part of the routine too.

the explosions are a surprise, and an annoyance. he just wanted to help rebuild their bond, but no, of course the sky gods cannot let them have anything.

he helps wilbur with the house, and protects the perimeter with a wide grin and a shout of "blades!" that never fails to make the other laugh. even as he has bite marks bandaged, he's content, warming frozen hands in front of a crackling furnace.

all good things must come to an end, though, and one night he wakes up in agony. it's like when his horns had come in, but ten times worse; the sky gods' influence is damning and overwhelming, and impossible to escape.

desperately, he tries to climb up to the highest point in the world, even if he has to create it himself. in the haze of his mind, he doesn't register wilbur's fate. he hates himself for it afterwards, but all he wants is for the ringing in his ears to _stop-_

and then he's back in manburg, minus a right-hand-man, and he buries his face in his hands, and screams.

he's only twenty. wilbur's only twenty.

they've missed almost five years to the sky gods' meddling. 

it's a harrowing thought.

\---

apparently, what had been a week to them was about a month or two to everyone remaining on the smp. techno, tommy, tubbo and fundy crash through the doors to his office, eyes flashing in anger.

"where is he?" tommy snarls, body blocking tubbo from his sight. the idea that he would hurt him - hurt any of them - is laughable. he's still recovering from the feeling of his brains turning inside out. "what did you do to him?"

schlatt doesn't reply. he can't bring himself to. he just wants to sleep, and sleep, and wake up next to the insufferable cold of his brother in all but blood. instead, he's forced to listen to this fucking-

"drivel." he grumbles, burying his face further into his eyes. the heels of his palms dig into his eyes. a fist slams into his desk, and his slitted eyes flick up to the masked ones of techno.

"listen up, schlatt, i'm not in the mood for games. what. did you do. to him?"

that draws a scoff from him, even if it's half-involuntary and feels like dragging his nails up a chalkboard. "really playin' the good big brother, huh, tech?" techno recoils, seemingly thrown off balance.

pathetic. his ears hurt. explosions and ringing and desperate cries and bright laughter batter against his skull.

"maybe he left because of you guys," he starts, almost to himself. regardless, tommy stiffens, and he feels like the eyes of techno's mask narrow. he can't see fundy and tubbo. he figures it's for the best.

"how so?"

all at once, he feels his temper snap. so much happened over the past week - month? years, the half decade they missed out and can't ever regain? - that he can't even find it in himself to be sorry.

"maybe 'cause you fuckin' drove him away? he told me, y'know, just how much you ignored him, treated him like a fuckin' doll 'stead of a person. or _maybe_ -" and his voice is derisive in a way it hasn't been for years, no longer cold condescension but genuine exhaustion.

"-maybe, it's cause you threatened to kill him? he felt like he had nowhere to go with you - hell, he's felt like that for a while. did he ever tell you about where he went, all those years he disappeared?"

minutely, tommy shakes his head. his eyes are wide and ever so slightly unfocused. schlatt can't bring himself to care.

"huh. and you call yourselves his family." he turns, back as straight as he can while wanting to curl into a ball and disappear. "now leave. i don't want to see you."

he waits for the footsteps to retreat - first, techno's unnervingly light ones, then tommy and tubbo's matching ones, balancing each other out, and then fundy's, hesitant - before he exhales.

even now, he cannot rest. he heaves a sigh, beginning to get to work on the paperwork they missed over the time they'd disappeared. he had a sinking feeling that wilbur wouldn't be back for a while.

he dipped a quill into an ink pot, beginning to draft up plans for a festival.

\---

when wilbur returns, niki a fierce presence at his side, he feels his legs turn to jelly. he's not angry, and it's clear wilbur is both surprised and not, but he _does_ want a hug. wilbur is happy to oblige, and niki's cold stare lessens in its intensity, just a little.

he is content to stay there, face buried in wilbur's shoulder, tension draining from his shoulders with every second spent away from his shithole of an office.

**Author's Note:**

> first things first I'm actually rly happy w this . call me narcissistic but I sometimes read thru my own fics bc I like my writing and also I'm cool and sexy
> 
> OK SO in the case I disappear from this series 4 a while . I'll put down my personal hc's on what happens, and who knows . maybe I'll write them (probably not 😭😭)
> 
> skip the following if you are REALLY hopeful or just wanna make up your own endings
> 
> -dream was probably the one who blew up the festival (part 5?? of this series). he made a deal w pogtopia (probs to destroy manburg), but after they saw how scared wilbur was of them, they called it off bc they wanted to work it out w manburg. dream didn't like that so he took matters into his own hands
> 
> -neither techno or Wilbur let each other go 4 like . a week or two after the festival . they r attached at the hip. Tommy chucks ice water on them . he begs them 2 take a shower
> 
> -niki finds out and takes one of dream's canon lives . Tubbo never loses canon life #2 . all is good
> 
> -everything works out bc I want a happy ending . Wilbur and schlatt go 2 therapy . puffy is there . she is the therapist


End file.
